It is the old story of a Westerner meddling with an Eastern custom. . “He says you are frigid, Madame. "Goodness only knows what he's reserved for," rejoined the widow in a desponding tone; "but if Mynheer Van Galgebrok, whom I met last night at the Cross Shovels, spoke the truth, little Jack will never die in his bed. ‘Certainly I am not a nun. I am quite sure though that they did not mean to be rude. I can esteem him, regard him; but, love him as he ought to be loved—that I cannot do. He was accustomed to such surprises, and enjoyed them. ‘What a catalogue. " "And you expect me to believe you after what has passed?" "I do; and, more than that, I expect you to thank me.
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